


Count the Ways

by sweetautumnwine



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: 100 Ways to Say I Love You Writing Challenge, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-18 10:47:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13680135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetautumnwine/pseuds/sweetautumnwine
Summary: An exploration of 100 ways Gon and Killua can say, "I love you." Each "chapter" will feature an independent short piece based on a dialogue prompt.Prompts will be in the notes at the end of each chapter!Source: http://p0ck3tf0x.tumblr.com/post/98502010026/one-hundred-ways-to-say-i-love-you





	1. Chapter 1

Killua clutched the steering wheel, hooded eyes forward facing, as he drove into the night. In the passenger seat, Gon scrolled through an app, screen dimmed, and giggled at occasional pictures. The dashboard display showed it was just after midnight. Their journey was barely halfway finished.

 

Stifling a yawn, Killua squinted into the lurking darkness ahead. On the long stretch of highway, past farms and fields and looming forests, few other vehicles traversed; they only passed one every half hour or so, left to navigate the lonely road, existing in the liminal space between home and destination. Only their rental car’s headlights pierced the gloom.

 

When Leorio and Kurapika had moved to a distant coastal city, they encouraged the others to visit, but scheduling proved difficult. It had been years since they’d seen each other in person. The photographs Leorio mailed to them—Kurapika perched in a crow’s nest, appearing right at home; Leorio holding aloft a massive fish, grinning madly—didn’t suffice. Gon messaged them blurry selfies, but responses rarely came.

 

They’d all grown, but they’d done so separately. What might time have done to their friendship?

 

Killua tightened his fingers around the wheel, curled them until the knuckles quivered and his skin grew taut. Gon looked up from his phone, saw the tension press Killua’s chest to the seatbelt.

 

He reached out to touch Killua’s elbow. Killua jerked, swerving onto the shoulder for a moment before straightening out. Shaken, he glanced between the road and Gon, trying to soothe his racing heart. “What the hell, Gon?”

 

“Killua,” Gon said. The gentle tone he adopted took Killua by surprise, softened his grip and forced him back against the seat. He eased off the gas pedal. “Pull over.”

 

“What?” Killua asked, turning sharply.

 

“Watch the road!”   
  


“Right.” Killua trained his eyes on the fleeting yellow stripes, the asphalt crawling beneath the tires. “Why do you want me to pull over?”

 

“Just do it,” Gon said, slipping his phone into his pocket. “Let me drive for a while.”

 

Killua drew in a breath, held it in his throat until the glint of light refracting off the milepost markers looked like lanterns, like fairies in the dust. “I’m fine, Gon. I can keep—”

 

“Please,” Gon said, pouting. “Just pull over.”

 

Unable to resist, Killua splayed his fingers in defeat, pressing down on the break and moving, intentionally, onto the shoulder. He pulled up the parking brake and unfastened his seatbelt but didn’t open the car door. Instead, he faced Gon. “Are you sure you want to drive?”

 

“I have my license, too, Killua,” Gon said, glaring. “It’s not fair if you drive the whole way.”

 

Killua knew Gon was dodging the question by the way his eyes gliding from Killua’s face to the dashboard, but he sighed, tugging on the handle and pushing open the door. “Fine. But if I fall asleep, you’ll be out of luck.”

 

“I can navigate just fine,” Gon protested.

 

“In the woods, sure. Following exit signs isn’t one of your strengths,” Killua said, circling around the front of the car.

 

Gon stopped before him, hands on his hips. Before Killua could react, Gon stood on his toes and pecked Killua’s cheek, summoning a light and furious blush. “We’ll be fine, Killua,” Gon said, returning to his regular height. “We’ll get to where we’re going, and we’ll celebrate, like old times.”

 

“Gon…” Fingers hovering over the place Gon’s lips had grazed, Killua bowed his head and smiled. “You’re right. Let’s keep going. We can stop somewhere if you get tired.”

 

Dancing around Killua, kicking up soil from the street so that it glimmered in the headlights, Gon stuck out his tongue. “No need! I’ll be find through the morning.”

 

Situating himself into the passenger seat, Killua rolled his eyes. “You say that now, but—”

 

Gon reached for Killua’s hand, intertwined their fingers. “You can sleep if you want,” Gon said, reaching to release the parking brake before returning his left hand to the steering wheel. “I won’t mind.”

 

Killua tightened his fingers around Gon’s, turned to watch the blur of trees through the window. “I’ll be okay—at least, for a little while—if we stay like this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #1: "Pull over. Let me drive for a while."


	2. Chapter 2

With an object in each hand, Killua weighed his options. Before the rows of trinkets and cheap treasures, he wondered if it would be silly after all to purchase a souvenir for someone from their own hometown.

 

He peered over the top shelf, finding Gon’s spiked hair a few aisles over. He tapped a bobblehead in the shape of the Chairman, watched it aggressively nod, and burst into laughter. Killua couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

 

They’d come to Whale Island before, of course, but Killua hadn’t spent much time in the town, meeting the people and exploring the shops. This had been expected, as Gon seemed to prefer the mountains and forests, the swamps and the rivers, over the bustle of the markets. But even in the tiny gift shop, Gon seemed natural, conversing with the shopkeeper about her arthritis, offering to sweep the wet leaves from the gutters.

 

In contrast, Killua knew he was out of place, a stark yet shadowed figure in a world full of light.

 

He set the objects down and stuffed his hands in his pockets. He could get Gon a gift somewhere else, something more significant than a stupid keychain or a stuffed toy. Hell, why had he even considered getting something so meaningless?

 

As he moved toward the door, eyes downcast, Killua only noticed Gon’s presence when he was upon him, arms wrapping around him and holding him captive.

 

“Gon—”

 

“Here,” Gon said, pulling away. In his hands, he held a small bag, overflowing with tissue paper. “Open it!”

 

Killua stared at the bag, then looked back to Gon. “Is this for me?”

 

Gon stuck out his tongue. “Of course,” he said. He nodded in encouragement until Killua held out his hands. Draping the slim handles of the bag over Killua’s fingers, Gon grinned. “It reminded me of you.”

 

All at once, Killua felt foolish. He tore at the wrapping and pulled from the depths an enamel cat, attached to a tiny chain and key ring. The cat’s expression was sour, pinched and puffy, but its cheeks were pink-hued.

 

Clutching the gift to his chest, Killua said, stuttering, “J-just wait here, Gon. Wait one minute!”

 

He darted back to the display and retrieved a similar keychain, one he’d held and admired, and brought it to the register, feeling the heat spread down his neck and to the tips of his ears. When he returned to the front of the store, he found Gon waiting obediently, rocking on his heels.

 

“H-here.” Killua lay the keychain in Gon’s open palm and looked away, out the glass doors to the cobblestone street beyond. “I wasn’t sure you’d like it.”

 

But Gon’s expression, bright eyes and beaming smile, made Killua turn back. He was delighted by the thought that Gon’s face mimicked that of the keychain. “I love it,” Gon said, as though awed by the simple trinket. “Now we match!”

 

“Idiot,” Killua huffed. “They’re different animals. Yours is a  _ dog _ , Gon.”

 

“Doesn’t matter,” Gon said, attaching the accessory to his backpack. “It’s close enough for me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "It reminded me of you."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not edit this at all, so if there's anything outrageously wrong, dull, or distracting, please let me know!

With sweat dripping into his eyes and bruises blooming in bursts on his back, Killua looked like a mess. Hunched over, he exhaled fully, mouth rounded and eyes closed. It wasn’t that the fights in Heaven’s Arena were hard; quite the opposite, actually. He managed to win most matched within seconds, rarely sustaining any damage.

 

But he’d been pushing himself a little too hard, training instead of sleeping, goading stronger opponents into sparring with him. Killua wasn’t sure why he did it, but the exertion was beginning to affect him. Days blurred together, and the taste of iron coated his tongue.

 

That day, he’d asked Gon to spot him, and though Gon showed hesitation, he agreed. In the locker room afterward, Killua sat on the bench, his head light and body heavy. He didn’t want to move—didn’t think he  _ could _ —and as he clutched his towel tighter in his fist. Other fighters milled about the room, but Killua couldn’t process anything through the haze of sweat and steam, the fog clouding his mind. If only he could escape, get back to his room and meditate, recover in some little way—

 

A cool, damp metal pressed against his shoulder, and he jerked his head up, dizzyingly fast. Gon held a drink can to Killua’s arm, smiling. The expression didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Drink this,” he said, nudging Killua with it. “It’ll help you feel better.”

 

“But I’m not even dressed yet,” Killua blurted. He wasn’t sure why that was his first response, or where the force with which he said it came from.

 

Gon cocked an eyebrow. “Can you get dressed in your state?” With flushed cheeks, Killua grit his teeth and didn’t answer. Sighing, Gon set the drink on the bench beside Killua and circled around so he stood before him. “I’ll help you. Then we can get out of here.”

 

As embarrassed as Killua was, he couldn’t help but relent. Dutifully, he nodded, and Gon bit his lip to keep from grinning. He reached out to ruffle Killua’s hair, to teasingly reprimand him for being obstinate, before retrieving Killua’s shirt and slipping his hands through the sleeves. With a brisk nod, Gon instructed Killua to lift his arms. Though it took great effort to do so, Killua managed to raise his shoulders, quivering from the strenuous motion. Gon clasped Killua’s clammy hands and raised his own arms, letting the fabric slide down. After releasing his hold, he maneuvered the shirt over Killua’s head and took a step back, extending both of his hands.

 

“Thanks,” Killua managed to say, resting his fingers on Gon’s palms.

 

“Let’s go,” Gon said, scooping up the canned drink before leading Killua out into the open hallway where cool air circulated, soothing the heated skin of Killua’s face.

 

Gon guided Killua to the elevator, still holding one of his hands, and when they were alone within, moving upward, Killua rested his cheek on Gon’s shoulder and exhaled.

 

For a moment, Gon nuzzled his cheek against Killua’s hair before making a sound of surprise. “I almost forgot,” he said, hands fumbling. He held out the drink to Killua. “Here.”

 

“Oh,” Killua said, taking it mindlessly. His voice was barely audible. The can was small enough that when Killua managed to open it, he quickly downed its contents. Once he’d swallowed and Gon had taken the can from him, Killua said, “Thanks, Gon. I’ll pay you back later.”

 

Gon flicked him in the arm—not hard, but enough to show his discontentment. “No,” Gon said, “it’s on me. Don’t argue.”

 

Killua shut his mouth. He wanted to protest, but he found he didn’t have the strength. Instead, he leaned deeper into Gon’s side, closing his eyes when Gon’s warm hand curled tenderly around Killua’s hip to keep him close. “Fine,” he murmured. “You win this time.”

 

When Killua’s breathing grew quieter, his lips parted and head lolling, Gon dared to kiss his forehead, adjusting his hold as the doors to the elevator opened. “It wasn’t a competition, Killua,” Gon muttered, hoisting Killua up as gently as he could, wrapping his arms under Killua’s legs and allow Killua’s head to rest against his chest. After stumbling a few steps, Gon regained his balance and looked fondly, only for a moment, at Killua. With a gentle, adoring smile, Gon carried Killua to his room, already planning to cancel Killua’s matched scheduled for the next day.

  
He reasoned that he’d rather Killua be angry with him than exhausted, and Gon  _ knew _ Killua couldn’t stay mad at him for too long. Terribly pleased with himself, Gon disposed of Killua’s empty can in the hallway and absently stroked Killua’s hair as he went on his way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "No, no, it's my treat."


	4. Chapter 4

Sitting on the edge of the bathtub in the cabin’s bathroom, Killua winced, fingers freezing. He pinched the end of the gauze and hesitated. Earlier, in the forest, he hadn’t thought he’d hurt himself  _ that _ badly. Sure, he wasn’t exactly proficient with an axe—if he was being honest, he’d never even touched one before, but he’d never admit that—but he hadn’t thought the cut had been that deep.

 

An hour after his fingers slipped from their grip and sent the blade burrowing into his lower thigh, Killua realized his mistake. He’d managed to pull back when it happened so that he didn’t sever his leg, but in spite of his reflexes, he’d still limped back to the cabin, firewood bundled in his arms, with a gaping wound. The gash wouldn’t heal quickly, and it was entirely likely that he’d damaged some nerves. Gritting his teeth, Killua finished wrapping his leg, knowing that fresh blood would seep through shortly, 

 

He wouldn’t tell Gon.

 

They’d come to the cabin to train in the woods. Gon felt more at home in the wilderness after all, and in some odd way, Killua felt comfortable there, too, hidden in the shadows of towering trees and nestled in natural darkness. If Killua rested as much as possible, feigned sickness even, he figured the injury would vanish within days, and he would resume training alongside Gon soon enough.

 

Killua rose, testing out his leg and gingerly transitioning some of his weight. When a twinge of pain stung him, he relented, leaning forward to grip the sink, breathing heavily. He lifted his face so he could just see his eyes, glassy yet bright, in the mirror.

 

There was a knock at the bathroom door, and Killua hastily rolled down the leg of his shorts so that the hem brushed his knee. “Y-yes?”

 

“Killua?” Gon’s voice, though muffled, was light. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

 

Shutting his eyes for a moment, Killua licked his lips and swallowed. “All right,” he said. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

 

Killua listened for receding footsteps, but none sounded. Instead, Gon seemed to rest his hand on the doorknob—didn’t turn it, just touched it enough to shift the metal against wood. “Is everything okay?”

 

“I’m fine,” Killua said. “Just washing my face. I’ll help you set the table.”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Gon said. “Just help me wash the dishes.”

 

Killua sighed. “Sure. Whatever you say.”

 

When Gon retreated to the kitchen, Killua leaned against the wall by the towel rod, capturing his tongue between his molars and frowning in thought. He wasn’t sure why he decided to hide his injury from Gon, but he couldn’t imagine changing his mind. Gon had enough to worry about.

 

After splashing cool water on his face and cleaning up the medical supplies, Killua emerged into the dark hallway. A single lamp glowed yellow by the front door, but the dusk sky outside leaked in through the windows, bathing the cabin in somber colors and shadows. With one hand trailing along the ridges in the wall, Killua moved deliberately to the kitchen, figuring out along the way how best to mask his limp.

 

There, by the stove, Gon wielded a pair of tongs, poised for action. He’d tied a bandana around his forehead to stop the sweat from falling into his eyes, and from the doorway, Killua could see the determination in his expression, the tension which pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes.

 

Leaning against the doorframe, Killua silenced his breathing and watched, following the beads of sweat dripping down Gon’s neck and noting the quivering muscles in his hands. Gon attacked the frying pan, flipping fish to sear the skin, the hiss of oil peppering the air with spices.

 

The growl of Killua’s stomach gave away his position, and Gon whipped around, cheeks flushed with heat. “Killua! I didn’t burn it!”

 

Though Killua was tempted to make some remark about how that shouldn’t be a momentous accomplish, he only chuckled. “That’s great, Gon.”

 

Gon’s smile faltered, and he lowered the tongs. He looked as though he wanted to say something, and Killua held his breath. But Gon kept his lips closed and turned off the heat, the flame diminishing into a tiny blue glow before disappearing altogether. “Come on, Killua,” he said, wrapping a cloth pad around the handle of the pan before lifting it. “Let’s eat.”

 

Their dining table was modest, and it sat between the stone fireplace and the back doors, beyond which lay an elevated porch, overlooking a clearing. Gon set the pan on the table and slipped a serving utensil into it before sitting in his place, back to the door.

 

Killua eased himself into the chair opposite Gon, marveling at the feast. “Thanks.”

 

“Dig in,” Gon said, beaming. He was visibly salivating, but he seemed to be holding himself back even as he tightened his hold on his fork and knife. “It’ll get cold.”

 

Allowing a smile, Killua nodded, then spooned a small portion of mountain vegetables, scavenged by Gon’s powerful nose and dexterous fingers, onto his plate. He could feel Gon’s eyes boring into him, waiting for Killua to take a bite. Withholding a sigh, Killua stabbed a clump and raised the fork to his lips, sliding the seasoned greens onto his tongue. His eyes widened, and after swallowing, he smiled. “It’s good, Gon. It’s really good.”

 

Gon leaned forward, pressing the handles of his utensils into the table. “You think so?”

 

“Yeah, it is,” Killua said. Beaming, Gon heaped his own helpings onto his plate and shoveled them into his mouth, squirming with delight as he chewed. Lowering his gaze, his mouth reverting to neutrality, Killua stiffened.

 

After laying his fork on the table, Killua stared at the empty space on his plate. He had become acutely aware of the ache in his thigh, and the dampness of his bandages had stripped him of his appetite. He prayed that Gon wouldn’t notice, but knew that, of course he would. Gritting his teeth, Killua shut his eyes tightly enough that the skin of his face grew taut, and the throbbing of blood in his head grew louder. He wanted to flee, to bury himself in blankets or hide in the forest. Above all else, he wanted to escape the cabin and the worry he would ultimately cause Gon.

 

He curled his fingers into white-knuckled fists and held his breath.

 

“Thank you, Killua.”

 

“What? For what?” The words were slung from Killua’s lips before he realized. He lifted his face in fear, fingers relaxing, only to find that Gon’s eyes were turned to the fire, flames reflecting.

 

“For the firewood,” Gon said cautiously, sliding his gaze to Killua. When Gon saw Killua’s pallid skin and fretful eyes, he tilted his head in concern.. “What’s wrong, Killua?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

“You’re a bad liar.”

 

“I am not!”

 

“So do you admit you’re lying?”

 

“I—” Killua stopped himself, bowing his head. The rigidity of Gon’s stern expression had convinced him. “Fine. Yes, I was lying.”

 

Gon rose, circling around the table to stand between Killua and the fire. “So what’s wrong?” he asked quietly, placing both palms over one of Killua’s hands and leaning down. “I can’t help if you don’t tell me.” When Killua didn’t answer immediately, lips parting only to close, Gon pouted. “Was it the food?”

 

“Of course not,” Killua said, waving his hands in exasperation.

 

“Well, if you won’t tell me, I can only assume it’s got something to do with me.”

 

Killua looked up at Gon’s earnest face, close enough to feel Gon’s breath on his cheeks, and sighed, turning away. “Look, Gon, it’s not that big of a deal, so don’t freak out about it—”

 

“Does it have anything to do with your leg?”

 

A sense of unease crept along Killua’s skin, and he slowly faced Gon. “How did you know?”

 

“You were limping,” Gon said, blinking. “And trying to hide it. It was pretty obvious.”

 

Ashamed, Killua bit his tongue and lowered his eyelids, his hands slipping from beneath Gon’s and seeking the bottom of his chair, his fingers curling under. “Oh,” he said, a hollow feeling settling in his chest. “And you didn’t say anything?”

 

“No,” Gon said gently. “I was waiting for you to tell me.” When Killua looked at Gon, searched his face for something, Gon’s expression grew almost melancholic. “Don’t you trust me, Killua?”

 

“I do!” Killua blurted. “I do. I just… didn’t want you to worry.”

 

“Will you let me see?”

 

Killua nodded, using his uninjured leg to push his chair away from the table. With both trembling hands, he lifted the fabric of his pants away from his leg and revealed the bandage. It had come undone, edges frayed from hasty tears and blood smeared across the surface. “It looks worse than it is,” Killua said. “Really.”

 

But Gon wore a frown that conveyed utter disapproval. “Come on,” Gon said, extending a stern hand. “Let me fix that for you.”

 

“I can do it—”

 

“Killua,” Gon said, pressing his lips into a tight line. “Don’t argue.”

 

“But what about our dinner?”

 

Gon seized Killua’s hand and bent down farther so that their faces were inches apart. “You’re more important than dinner, Killua,” he said. Straightening, he grinned. “Besides, we can heat it up later!”

 

“You’re impossible,” Killua said breathlessly, but he relaxed in Gon’s hold, adjusting his hand so that it fit more naturally.

 

Gon smirked. “I’ll help you.” Looping his free arm around Killua’s shoulders, Gon aided him in rising, taking the strain of weight distribution away from Killua’s injured leg. Once Killua was standing, Gon lowered his hand to Killua’s waist and held tightly, fingers smoothing over his shirt and molding comfortably over bone.

 

As they hobbled toward the hallway, Killua found himself looking at Gon, the wide-eyed expression of determination and something unreadable present on his face.

 

Gon glanced at him and paused. “What is it?”

 

“Thank you, Gon,” Killua said, leaning into him. “I’m sorry I tried to keep it from you.”

 

With a laugh, Gon nudged Killua’s cheek with his own, nearly nuzzling. “Just don’t do it again,” Gon warned. “Or else I’ll make you sleep outside.”

 

“You  _ wouldn’t _ .”

 

“Wanna find out?”

 

They both laughed, falling into an easy rhythm as they walked again, and the sting of Killua’s injury almost seemed to vanish in the moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Come here. Let me fix it."
> 
> Endings... are hard.


End file.
